Upstairs in a Dutch farmhouse in the 1970s, a father lies dying, confined to his bedroom. He is being cared for by his son Helmer, a lonely middle-aged farmer with two pet donkeys for company, who silently hates his father for the ruin of his life, and still mourns the loss of his twin, Henk, some 30 years before. Then Henk's old fiancée briefly appears, asking if her sullen teenage son can come to work as a farmhand. Clearly this is a novel of lost chances, of lost lives, of sadness and regret. It is told with subtlety, makes beautiful links to the landscape and nature, and is occasionally rather fascinating, in a voyeuristic kind of way, on the weird world of twins. The break between the two happened not at Henk's death, but earlier, when Henk met Riet, and the twin finds their coupling unconscionable. But these men are so silent in the assessment of their own lives, and this is such a sad and bleak story, that no matter how delicate the touch and how subtle the undercurrents, it makes for a sad, bleak read.